History! Seta and Haruka... Hina Raiders?!
by Fish
Summary: Moving on is so much more difficult when your past won't leave you alone. Somewhat dark, anime universe, alternate-storyline in the place of the Spring Special.


The Love Hina concept and characters belongs to TV Tokyo. I'm not making any money off this fic. That   
said...   
  
This fic proceeds as if the Spring Special had never happened. It should be viewed as an alternate to the Special; it   
covers a lot of the same ground, but goes about it in a different way. I think the term is "alternate-storyline".  
--------------------  
  
Their hands touched very briefly, then parted. He stepped away slowly, searching for her eyes, but she refused to look   
at him. He muttered a soft apology as he turned and started down the stairs. The Hinata Inn loomed behind him, its   
windows dark, staring blankly off into nowhere. Leaves danced and skittered across his path, their airborne ballet   
ignored.   
  
As he reached the first landing, she called out to him. "Seta?" He paused, turning, and forced a quiet, painful smile.   
She lifted her eyes to meet his. "I'll still be here, if you ever come back."  
  
"Haruka…"  
  
"I know, it won't change anything. But if for some reason you return… I'll be here."  
  
He nodded solemnly and resumed his descent. She watched him disappear, her arms folded across her chest, the wind   
tossing her hair into her eyes.  
  
It was over.  
  
  
It was a beautiful day. The sun was painfully bright, warming the air to the ideal temperature and invigorating the   
birds, which seemed to be in a competition over who could sing the loudest and the closest to the open window. The   
wind, blowing at the perfect pitch, carried the smell of ocean into room 205 where Konno Mitsune was sulking for no   
particular reason. She lay spread-eagled on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The ceiling was quite boring;   
Everything else was boring, too.   
  
Kitsune had become increasingly restless ever since her birthday, the day she Officially Turned Twenty. She had   
turned twenty in August. It was March now.   
  
It wasn't like life had taken a turn for the uninteresting; antics continued as they always had at the Hinata Inn. There   
were still daily spats and attempts on each other's lives, mysterious appearances and disappearances and attacks made   
by giant mechanical turtles. She just had a lack of enthusiasm that she couldn't explain.   
  
Normally, if she was in this mood, she would have dragged herself up to Naru's room and laid out her woes on her best   
friend's floor. But with the approach of the Todai entrance exams and the growth of her relationship with Keitaro,   
Narusegawa Naru had been in quite the frenzy.   
  
Kitsune rolled over onto her stomach and rested her chin on her folded hands. There was a knock at her door.  
  
"Kitsune-sempai, lunch is almost ready."  
  
Sighing, Kitsune pulled herself up off the bed. "Alright, Shinobu-chan, I'm coming." She padded to the door and slid it   
open.   
  
"Oh, also, could you please go tell Haruka-san?" Shinobu continued. "I believe she's at the teahouse."  
  
  
Kitsune could hear low, even voices inside the teahouse. As she approached, she caught a glimpse of an abused-  
looking van perched precariously on its side in the parking lot. Seta was there, she realized happily, some of her   
melancholy fading away. She quickened her pace. The voices became louder.  
  
"...rather surprised when you turned up again, you know," she heard.  
  
Seta laughed. "Yeah, so was I. I never expected to return to this place."  
  
"You've caused quite the disturbance," Haruka said. "It seems that our Naru-chan had been harboring a crush on you."  
  
"Yes," Seta said. "She told me, at Christmas." He laughed again. "I was about to launch into a bit of a lecture on age   
differences, but luckily she informed me that she... had new priorities."  
  
Kitsune slowed, listening. She supposed it was impolite of her to be eavesdropping, but who was she to turn away an   
opportunity for juicy gossip? She crept up to the wall of the house and stood, flattened, next to one of the open   
windows. She could just see inside, where Haruka and Seta were kneeling by a table, Haruka with her back to   
Kitsune's window, and Seta facing her.   
  
Haruka was nodding. "Yes, she and Keitaro are in the midst of... something."  
  
"Are you concerned at all? Teenagers in love, living in the same dorm?"  
  
It was Haruka's turn to chuckle. "With the way that Naru treats him," she said, "I don't think things will be progressing   
too quickly."  
  
Seta grinned. "Still, youthful emotions are quite often the most genuine... well, why am I telling you this?" He paused.   
"How long has it been, Haruka-chan?"  
  
Kitsune's eyes widened.  
  
"Six years."  
  
She swallowed hard. Was she hearing this?  
  
"Six years... It seems longer."  
  
Haruka nodded solemnly, and her voice softened drastically. "Yes, it does." There was a pause, and she sighed.   
"Perhaps it's time that we..."  
  
Kitsune leaned forward, closer to the window. It was terrible of her to be listening in on this, it was disrespectful, it   
was horrible, it was so much fun...  
  
"Kitsune!"   
  
She froze. The voice hadn't come from inside the teahouse, and it was much too young to be Haruka's...  
  
"Kitsune, lunch is ready! Are you coming?" Kaolla Su bounded down the stairs three at a time, shouting. Kitsune   
scrambled away from the house, praying that she wouldn't be discovered. "Kitsune, what are you doing over there?"  
  
"Er, yeah, Su-chan, I just thought I saw something over in the woods," she said, her heart beating rapidly. She tried to   
look innocent as she strolled towards the door of the teahouse. Su bounced next to her. "Haruka, are you coming up   
for lunch... oh, hello, Seta-san." She feigned surprise at seeing the man.  
  
Haruka eyed the younger girl warily for a moment, then nodded. Kitsune offered a weak smile and left, with Su   
running before her.  
  
Haruka stood slowly and stared after the two girls for a moment, a slight smile crossing her face. Seta rose with her.  
  
"Do you think she heard?" he asked.   
  
Haruka laughed softly to herself, then glanced up at the man. "Let's go."  
  
  
Kitsune could sum up the mood of that lunch in one word: Uncomfortable. She couldn't meet Seta or Haruka's eyes,   
which wouldn't have been too bad, but they had taken seats directly across from her. She hadn't looked up, and had   
excused herself halfway through the meal to retreat to her room, where she resumed her previous position on her bed.  
  
The two adults' words sunk in slowly. Was she misunderstanding, or had Haruka and Seta been together? Even if it   
had been six years ago, that still came as a bit of a shock. And the way the two had spoken, it seemed that there was   
still something between them...  
  
And that seriously screwed her chances with Seta. She supposed she could try to wedge herself between them and   
claim Seta for her own, but she'd never heard Haruka use that tone of voice before. She had sounded... sad, almost   
lonely. It was not something she'd expected to hear from the stoic woman. It almost scared her.   
  
If Haruka and Seta wanted to be together, why weren't they? There was nothing keeping them apart, unless Haruka   
was in the midst of some passionate secret love affair. But somehow that didn't seem likely. So what was keeping   
them separated? Why couldn't they just decide? If Haruka didn't want him, Kitsune was more than willing to take him.   
But nothing would happen between Kitsune and Seta if Seta actually wanted to be with Haruka...  
  
Yet another opportunity, down the drain.   
  
Kitsune tried to keep herself from sulking again. She mustn't think about the fact that she was jobless, with no   
particular plans for life, no focus, no love interest, and nobody who cared that much about her...  
  
That wasn't true. Naru cared about her. Naru was her best friend. But Naru now had Keitaro, and he took precedence   
over Kitsune.   
  
So people cared about her, but not that much. That made her feel just great.  
  
The afternoon passed slowly for Kitsune, but eventually the sun crept below the horizon. The girl stayed in her room   
until late, when the house quieted down. Naru and Keitaro would be upstairs studying (although she sometimes   
wondered if that was all they did on their late nights together in Naru's room); everyone else should be asleep. With   
confidence from the knowledge that she would have the house to herself, she started downstairs to the bath.  
  
The air was crisp, but not particularly cold, and provided a stark contrast to the heat of the water. The sky was clear,   
the moon such a thin slip that it was almost nonexistent. She leaned back in the water, drinking in the stars and the   
distant roar of the ocean.  
  
"Mind if I join you?"  
  
Kitsune jumped slightly. "Oh, Haruka-san..." The older woman smiled at Kitsune as she sank up to her neck in the   
water, the smoke from her cigarette blending in with the steam of the hot spring. "I thought you'd be asleep by now."  
  
Haruka lifted her face to the sky. "I like to come out here sometimes, when everything is quiet. It's easier to think."   
  
Kitsune relaxed a little. She was pretty sure Haruka knew she had been listening to her and Seta, but it didn't appear   
that the woman was holding a grudge. Kitsune studied her hands, and then suddenly spoke.  
  
"Haruka," she said. "Have... have you ever felt like... I don't know, like there was a curse or something hanging over   
you, and that it was determined to make your life... well, not miserable, but just... melancholy? Not tragic, but still...   
just not right?"  
  
Haruka stared at Kitsune for a moment, her eyes surprised and quizzical. For a moment, the younger girl thought she   
had said something offensive or shocking. She quickly went over the words she had used in her mind, and determined   
that she hadn't said anything particularly horrible.   
  
Haruka closed her eyes and lowered her head. "Yes, Kitsune, I sometimes feel exactly like that."   
  
"How do you make it go away?" Kitsune asked.  
  
"You can't make it go away," Haruka said, "But you can live in spite of it. Sometimes you just have to tell yourself,   
'things are horrible right now, but the future will be different, and it's waiting for me.'" She took a heavy drag from her   
cigarette, and smoke trickled from her nose. "You just have to trust that it will get better."  
  
The two sat in silence for a while, each with their eyes turned upward at the star-speckled sky, both deep in thought.   
After what seemed like hours of quiet meditation, Kitsune climbed out of the water, thanked Haruka for her helpful   
words, and went to bed.  
  
Haruka remained in the bath. When she heard the door to the house slide shut behind Kitsune, her dignified resolve   
seemed to melt away under the steam of the water. She squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth and swallowing hard,   
and taking a deep, wavering breath. As her face turned skyward once more, a tear traced along her jawbone and fell   
into the bath, the saline blending with the water and disappearing.  
  
  
Six years younger, Haruka tapped her foot, waiting for the plane to land. She wanted a cigarette, badly. She glanced   
impatiently at the ground thousands of feet below her. The vast jungles and plains of the continent below would   
normally have struck her as majestic, but right now they were an annoyance, something between her and her next   
Marlboro. She sighed.  
  
"We've only been in the air twenty minutes, you know," said the young man beside her. She glanced up at him, too   
frustrated to smile as he grinned down at her. He laughed. "You really should cut back."   
  
"I have my vices, you have yours," she said, trying to disguise the fact that her leg was twitching of its own accord.   
  
"Me? Vices?" the man said, innocently. "I'm a saint!"  
  
"I seem to remember a conversation on the flight out of Tokyo," she said, cocking her head and lowering her voice in   
an attempt to imitate her companion's speech. "'You know, Haruka-chan, in America they have this thing called the   
Mile High Club...'"  
  
The man grinned sheepishly. "Alright, alright. You win."  
  
Haruka shook her head and returned to staring uninterestedly out the window. The young man continued to watch her   
for a moment, glanced around the plane, and leaned over to whisper in her ear. "You know, there's nobody in the   
bathroom right now..."  
  
Haruka smacked him, growling affectionately. "Seta, if you try that ONE more time on me, I swear to god that you   
will wake up missing several vital pieces of anatomy in the morning!"  
  
  
Haruka swept off the back stoop of the teahouse and wondered where her youth had disappeared. Not that she was   
very old, but the years seemed to pass faster and faster.   
  
She glanced up as the phone rang inside the teahouse, propped her broom against the wall, and stepped inside.   
  
"Hello, Hinata Teahouse."  
  
"Haruka?"  
  
She frowned. "Seta?"   
  
"I think you need to come over here, Haruka," Seta said. His voice rang with a mixture of concern and excitement.   
"To Todai."  
  
"What's going on?"   
  
There was a pause. "It's... Tadazane. I got a letter from him earlier today. You and I need to speak."   
  
Silence.  
  
"Haruka? Are you there?"  
  
There was another pause, then: "I'll be there, give me an hour or so."  
  
On the other side of the line, Noriyasu Seta listened to the buzz of the dial tone for a moment before he hung up. This,   
he thought, was unexpected. A sudden note from someone he hadn't spoken to in years...  
  
Six years, actually.   
  
He pulled himself out of his desk chair and went into the storage room that adjoined his large, cluttered office. The   
storage room itself was dark, and clouds of dust rose with every step Seta took. He weaved his way through the   
countless boxes and crates, occasionally checking labels. He found what he was looking for at the very back of the   
room, in a large cardboard box marked, "Egypt, 1994".   
  
He hefted the box to the floor and dragged it towards the entrance of the room, where the light was better, and pulled   
out a pocketknife to cut through the sealing tape. The smell that escaped from the box was a pleasant one, of old   
leather and musty notebooks. His eyes flashed as he unfolded a beat-up brown leather duster.  
  
He sank to the ground next to the box and fished out his notebooks. Paging through the top book, he shook his head.   
He really needed to work on his penmanship, he could hardly read his own handwriting. He labored over every   
paragraph, gleaning as much information as he could, time standing still as he lost himself in the pages. After a while,   
he sighed. He would have lost all the information from that expedition, had Haruka not insisted on keeping half their   
notes herself. Her handwriting was quite a bit more legible than his was.  
  
"Seta? Hello?"  
  
Startled, he snapped out of his reverie. "Haruka. I'm in the back, hold on." It took him a moment to find his way out   
of the maze of boxes, the duster still draped over his arm. He grinned as he entered his office to find Haruka reclined   
in his desk chair, her feet propped up on the desk, an ancient-looking vase in one hand.  
  
She gestured to the vase, and then tossed it carelessly to Seta. "It's fake."  
  
"I know," he said, catching it clumsily. "I see you haven't lost your eye for counterfeits."   
  
"Hmm." Her eyes landed on the jacket in Seta's arms, and she glanced up at the man suspiciously. "What did you   
bring that out for?"   
  
"I was being nostalgic," he said, setting the vase back on the desk.   
  
Haruka sat silently for a moment. "What does he want?"  
  
"Us. In the field."  
  
"What does he need us for? We were just kids last time I was on a dig..."  
  
"I know. He wants us because he is looking for the bracelet."  
  
Haruka stared at him. "You're not going to help him, Seta, are you? Remember what happened..."  
  
"I remember exactly what happened. Memories like those don't fade with time. If anything, I've found that they have   
become more vivid and disturbing. But still, he wants to talk to us. He says it's important." He crossed to the desk and   
pulled open a top drawer, extracting an opened envelope. He handed it to Haruka. She didn't read it.  
  
"I thought that chapter of our lives was over, Seta. It's hard enough to deal with now. Do we really need to rip open a   
scarred wound?"  
  
"All he wants is to speak with us."   
  
"When?"  
  
"He's flying into Tokyo tomorrow night at eight. He said he'd like to meet us around ten at the bar in his hotel."  
  
The woman nodded and flicked her cigarette over the ashtray on Seta's desk.  
  
"I was thinking we could go into town a little early, and maybe have dinner," he offered, hopefully.  
  
Haruka continued to study the ashtray. "I don't think that's wise." Her voice trailed off, and her eyes seemed to glaze   
over for a moment. "I've found that tempting fate usually gets one in more trouble than one can handle."  
  
"Alright," said Seta, the disappointment very obvious in his voice. He eyed the letter. "Are you sure you don't want to   
read that, Haruka?"  
  
She stood and put out her cigarette. "No. If he wants to apologize a million times over, then let him. It won't change   
the last six years." She left the letter on Seta's desk and headed to the door, and paused at the threshold. "I'll see you   
tomorrow night," she said, and left.  
  
  
Seta stood on the edge of the gravel tarmac, shielding his eyes against the sun. The wind tossed his long, brown duster-  
newly purchased for this trip-and whipped sand into his face. He surveyed the scorched, red earth and sparse   
vegetation of the area, and pulled at his collar. "Hot out here, isn't it?"  
  
Haruka appeared behind him, the wind blowing her hair in her eyes. She frowned and tossed her hair out of her face,   
then fished around in her backpack for a pack of cigarettes. She pulled out her lighter, watching the porters unload   
trunks and crates from the belly of their plane. "Hot as hell."   
  
"Nonsense!" rang a jovial voice from behind them. The owner of the voice, a heavyset man in his late fifties, strolled   
towards the two. He had disheveled, black, gray-specked hair and a scruffy beard. His chocolate-dark eyes were small   
and receded and were framed by bushy gray eyebrows. "Hell gets much hotter than this, when the sun is overhead. For   
the month of June, this is nothing!" He grinned.  
  
Seta returned the smile. "Good morning, Adachi-sensei."  
  
"Good morning, Seta-kun. And Haruka, you look lovely as ever," the man said, tipping his wide-brimmed hat.  
  
Haruka smiled, turning away from the wind to light her much-needed cigarette. She wasn't one for gratuitous praise,   
but Adachi Tadazane was the only reason that she and Seta were there. He'd been kind enough to invite them along on   
the dig; Seta was one of his favorite students. Through their acquaintance at Todai, the three had formed an odd   
friendship, with Tadazane becoming something of a mentor to the two youths.   
  
"Why did we have to bring jackets, then?" Haruka growled.  
  
"Hell turns very cold at night." The man grinned again. "Well, are you kids ready to go to the site?"  
  
  
The steady hum of the dryer provided a pleasant, ambient noise and gave the room the warm, fuzzy smell of lint and   
fabric softener. The laundry room had a peaceful air about it, and Kitsune managed to keep herself from thinking too   
much, a welcome relief from the past few days. It was twilight; the grayish-orange light filtered into the room from the   
West-facing windows. Naru sat silently on top of the washer, her legs crossed and a textbook propped up on her lap,   
waiting for her load of clothes to finish drying. Kitsune was sprawled on the floor below her, back to the washer, with   
a pile of laundry in front of her. She mated a pair of socks and rolled them together, sighing.  
  
"What's wrong?" Naru mumbled, half-interested, from her perch above her friend.  
  
"Nothing," she answered. "You're busy." She held up a pale lavender bra and studied it. "Naru-chan, is this yours or   
mine?"  
  
Naru glanced down. "Mine. Are you sure you're okay?"  
  
"Yeah, just restless, I guess." She folded the bra and set it on top of a pile of Naru's newly cleaned clothing.   
  
"Restless? Why?"  
  
"I... I guess it's because I see you and Keitaro, studying for school and preparing for the rest of your lives, and Motoko   
with her kendo training..." she took a breath. "And I see Su, with her brother and sister, foreign royalty, and Shinobu   
with her brilliance in the kitchen... and I think, 'what about me?' What am I supposed to be doing? I have no real   
focus, I've always just lived for the moment, and now that I'm an adult I don't know where I want to go and what I want   
to do."  
  
There was a pause, while Naru attempted to come up with an appropriate response. She hadn't expected such a   
heartfelt reaction. "Oh," she said, stupidly.   
  
"Well, don't worry about it," Kitsune said, hurriedly. "You have to worry about your Todai entrance exam." An evil   
grin played at the corner of her mouth. "And about Keitaro..."  
  
"There's nothing to worry about." Naru glared.  
  
"Oh? And Christmas Eve was...?"  
  
The girl blushed. "It's not like we're engaged." Naru crossed her arms. "Anyway, it's my business!"  
  
Kitsune's grin widened. "Why so defensive all of a sudden, Naru? Why, with emotional outbursts like those, you   
could give people the impression that you're hormonally imbalanced..."   
  
A low growl started in Naru's throat.  
  
Kitsune faked a gasp. "Naru-chan, are you... PREGNANT?"  
  
"Argh!" Naru vaulted herself off of the washer and thumped Kitsune over the head with her notebook. "I am NOT!"  
  
Kitsune rolled out of the way of Naru's second blow and stood, eyes flashing, ready to dart away if necessary. "It   
would explain so many things, Naru!" she grinned. "Like why your face flushes all the time, and why you're so   
irrational, and so violent!"  
  
"I'm not violent!" Naru yelped, dashing in for another assault, which Kitsune sidestepped. "And Keitaro and I are just...   
friends!"  
  
Kitsune paused, her head cocked, her brow knit in thought. "Oh. Then good luck, because Sara is almost as vicious as   
you are, and she's very protective of Seta-san..." she ducked and deflected Naru's thrown notebook, then leapt out of the   
way as Naru charged her.   
  
"You know I'm not interested in him anymore," Naru said after plowing into the wall where Kitsune had been standing.   
  
"So it IS Keitaro."  
  
"Kitsune!"   
  
Kitsune backed towards the door to the hallway, prepared to make a run for it. "Don't worry, Naru, I won't tell   
anyone!" she said, needlessly loud.  
  
"Tell anyone what?" Asked Motoko as she slid open the door to the room.  
  
"Naru's pregnant with Keitaro's child!" Kitsune gushed, then peeled out of the room.  
  
"Really?!" asked Su, peering out from behind the stunned, frozen Motoko. "Wow!" She bounded down the hall after   
Kitsune, overjoyed.  
  
Naru roared and pushed past Motoko (who still hadn't gotten over the initial shock, and stood, wide-eyed, in the   
doorway) and tore after Kitsune and Su.  
  
"Naru's having Keitaro's baby, Shinobu!" Su said to the dark-haired girl, who stood teetering on her heels, left off-  
balance from when Kitsune had zoomed past.  
  
The little girl's face dropped and she clattered to the floor. "What?" she whimpered, watching Su continue bouncing   
down the hallway after Kitsune. She squealed as Naru came thundering past, screaming murderously.   
  
A moment later, Motoko stalked past, her sword drawn and death beaming from her eyes. She seemed to be chanting,   
"Must... destroy," in time with her footsteps. Shinobu whimpered again.  
  
"Please wait, Motoko-sempai!" she called. "Don't kill him!"  
  
Kitsune was euphoric. She could hardly run while laughing this hard, but adrenaline kept her moving. Su danced at   
her heels, shouting happily. She skidded around a corner and stumbled into entrance hall, where Keitaro was standing   
on one foot, pulling off a shoe.   
  
Su spun gracefully through the air and glomped onto the unsuspecting boy, who staggered into a wall. "Keitaro's gonna   
be a daddy!" she sang, launching herself from his chest and in the direction in which Kitsune had disappeared.  
  
"I'm going to WHAT?" he shouted after Su, confused. He saw Naru rapidly approaching. "Hey, Narusegawa, what's   
going on?" She paused to kick him in the gut, then resumed her frantic scrambling after Kitsune. Keitaro grunted,   
clutching his stomach.   
  
"Keitaro-sempai!"   
  
"H-hello, Shinobu-chan," he gasped, attempting to straighten up and breathe normally, one shoe still discarded a few   
feet away. The untied laces of the shoe still attached to his foot clicked against the wooden floor.  
  
The young girl stuttered, attempting to speak. Her eyes were flooded with tears, her hands clasped nervously over her   
mouth. "I..."  
  
Keitaro frowned. "What's wrong?"  
  
Shinobu took a deep breath and covered her face with her hands. "Naru-sempai is going to have your baby and   
Motoko's coming to kill you!" she cried, then fled towards the kitchen.  
  
Keitaro's heart stopped beating momentarily and the color drained from his face. "M-my... b...baby?"  
  
"Urashima Keitaro."  
  
His eyes widened and a very quiet, desperate prayer was whispered to whatever god he had pissed off this time.   
  
"Urashima Keitaro," said Motoko, her eyes fastened on his as she stalked slowly towards him from a darkened hallway,   
"I have been too lenient. You," she spat, "have gone too far this time."  
  
Keitaro giggled nervously and swallowed. "Th... I couldn't... we didn't... I don't remember..."  
  
"No excuses." The girl said, her face a mask of frightening calm.   
  
Keitaro took a deep breath, preparing to speak, then had a better idea and ran for his life.   
  
Kitsune ducked under Naru's jump-kick (she briefly wondered why Keitaro had never tried ducking, as it worked   
surprisingly well) and darted back in the direction she had come from. Naru's jump carried her sailing into a large, dark   
closet, to which Su-ever resourceful-had opened the door. The young blond laughed happily as she swung the door   
shut on the still-enraged Naru. Kitsune, who hadn't waited around long enough to see this, continued running.  
  
Keitaro frowned again as he saw Kitsune racing towards him, nearly matching his speed. "Hey, Keitaro," she called   
casually as she passed. She seemed awfully pleased with herself, Keitaro thought, glancing over his shoulder. He   
noticed that Motoko was gaining on him, and picked up his pace.   
  
His eyes still trained behind him on the enraged kendo master, Keitaro didn't notice that he was rapidly approaching a   
closed closet door.  
  
Su noticed, though, and very thoughtfully opened the door for him. The door opened to reveal Naru, whose hand was   
raised to knock on said door. She noted with some surprise that Keitaro was racing towards her while looking over his   
shoulder. The distance between the alleged soon-to-be parents closed extremely quickly, and Keitaro crashed into the   
girl, knocking the both of them backward into the large closet. Su slammed the door again and turned the lock,   
extracted the key, and danced off, narrowly avoiding Motoko, who slid into the door and was knocked off her feet.  
  
Motoko screamed. "Kaolla Su, give me that key so I can kill Keitaro!"  
  
"Busy day?" Seta asked dryly as Haruka shut the front door behind them. Haruka grunted a response, slipping off her   
shoes. They exchanged glances as terrified screams began emanating from down the hall.  
  
"This is becoming more and more normal," Haruka said evenly. "I'm not sure how much longer the Inn will remain   
standing." She followed the screams to their source, which appeared to be a large walk-in closet. The door was locked.   
  
"Seta," she called down the hall to where the man stood watching as Motoko attempted to capture Su, "would you grab   
the master keys from the hook by the door?"  
  
"Sure," he called, as Su leapt gracefully onto his back.   
  
"Naru's pregnant!" the girl informed him.   
  
There was a thump from the closet, and the screaming suddenly stopped.  
  
A few moments later, after sorting through dozens of keys, Haruka turned the lock on the closet door. The door   
exploded open, and Keitaro fell to the floor. He looked extremely frightened.  
  
Naru stood confusedly in the dark closet for a moment, blushing furiously as Seta grinned at her.  
  
"Congratulations," he said happily.  
  
  
Kitsune climbed the stairs, a basket of laundry to be delivered to rooms held against her hip, her head still buzzing from   
the earlier spectacle. Things had turned out all right, as always, after, at Naru's prompting, she'd assured everyone that   
it was simply speculation and they wouldn't know for certain until the tests came back. Naru had smacked her, and   
she'd finally reluctantly admitted that Naru was not going to be a mother any time soon. Seta had seemed almost   
disappointed at the revelation. Motoko had quieted her rage, and Keitaro lived on. Shinobu, after a few panicked   
moments where she thought Naru had miscarried, had calmed down and stopped crying.   
  
All in all, a rather productive day. Although it hadn't solved her problems, it did make her feel a lot better. Maybe   
that's what she needed, to have more fun, although it didn't seem fair to subject the residents of the Hinata Inn to her   
"fun" more often than once a week.   
  
As she reached the third-floor landing, she noticed a small closet door open. She'd never seen that closet opened; she'd   
checked it once, but it had been locked. Intrigued, she slid the door open further and peered inside.  
  
There was nothing in it, save for dust. She jumped as she heard a thud from down the hallway.  
  
"Damn," someone said.  
  
Her brow furrowing slightly, she headed towards the noise. As she closed in on the source, there was a rustling sound,   
and someone sneezed.   
  
It was coming from an unoccupied room. She turned one last corner, and found the door about an inch ajar. She   
knocked on the doorframe anyway. "Hello?"  
  
"Hai?" It was Haruka.   
  
"Are... you alright?"  
  
"Oh, Kitsune! Would you come in here for a moment?"  
  
Curious, Kitsune pushed the door open the rest of the way. There were three large boxes on the floor, one of them with   
its tape ripped through, presumably by the kitchen knife that lay carelessly on the floor next to it. The box was spewing   
clothes out of the top; the other two simply sat in anticipation. Haruka stood in front of a mirror, several dresses hung   
over one arm, another in her free hand. She nodded at the dress in her hand.  
  
"You think black or mauve?"  
  
Kitsune blinked. She'd never seen Haruka in as much as blush and eyeshadow, much less a cocktail dress. She stood   
dumbly for a moment, then realized she'd been asked a question. "Mauve," she said, faintly.   
  
"That's what I thought, too." She tossed the rest of the dresses back into the bulging box of clothing. "I have to find   
shoes," she mumbled. "They're in one of these boxes, I think." She didn't move towards the two undisturbed boxes,   
but simply stared at them thoughtfully, then glanced at the younger girl. "How would you like to rummage through my   
past with me, Kitsune?"  
  
Kitsune set down the laundry basket and knelt by a box and Haruka tossed her a pair of scissors from the small desk   
propped against the wall. Haruka picked up the kitchen knife and tore into one of the unopened boxes, and Kitsune   
followed her lead.   
  
"Are you going out, Haruka-san?" Kitsune asked, trying not to sound overly anxious. The tape on her box was quite   
stubborn, and she jabbed at it with the scissors for a moment before it released its hold, poking her thumb in the   
process. She yelped and stuck the finger in her mouth, glowering at the offending tape.  
  
"Not quite," the woman answered, her cigarette dangling limply from her mouth. She pulled back the flaps of her box   
and rummaged around in it for a moment, then frowned and sat back on her haunches. "This isn't the box. What's in   
yours?"  
  
Kitsune glanced down at the box in front of her, which contained a large, garish lamp and several small articles bundled   
in newspaper. "Not shoes," she said.  
  
"I guess I must have brought it down to the basement." Haruka rocked onto her feet. Kitsune followed a few feet   
behind her, hoping that she might get a little more information on just what was going on.  
  
The halls under the Hinata Inn ran for great distances in each direction. As a result, a cold, ominous wind blew through   
them, producing a constant, mournful sort of sigh. The tunnels and attached rooms had a lonely, forgotten feel, as if   
something had been left to die there years ago.   
  
The bare bulb that hung in the second room to the right gave off a stark, impersonal light, adding to the already   
uncomfortable atmosphere the cold impartiality of a hospital wing. Haruka didn't seem to notice, as she began wading   
through the sea of boxes.  
  
"It should be labeled around 1995," she said, weaving toward the back of the room. "Ideally, it would also say 'shoes',   
but I have a feeling we won't be that lucky."  
  
"Is all of this stuff yours?" Kitsune asked.  
  
"Mmm-hmm." Haruka looked up, and pulled the cigarette from her mouth to blow a strand of hair out of her face. "I   
was young once, too, you know." She kicked at a box, turning it so the label fell out of the shadows. She shook her   
head, and returned to stooping to read the scrawled writing on the boxes.  
  
Half of the boxes Kitsune found heralded their contents as, "Haruka-'80-Toys". She was amazed that one child could   
have so many toys worth keeping into their adulthood. A few boxes provoked inquiries, which she sent over the sea of   
packing materials to Haruka. Almost all of the crates were marked before 1990, though, and therefore didn't help their   
shoe quest. To complicate matters further, the light bulb died half way through their search, and they had to grope their   
way upstairs to find another one. Of course, neither woman remembered where she had left off, and so they started   
again from the beginning.  
  
Kitsune frowned at a box that didn't appear to be marked. "Haruka, what do I do if it doesn't say what's in it?"  
  
"Cut it open," she said. "I brought the scissors down, they're over by the door. There's tape there, too, if you need to   
reseal it."  
  
The tape on this box was much more willing to fall open than the previous one. She pulled back the flaps, revealing a   
small stack of notebooks with creased covers piled on top of a beaten leather jacket. "It doesn't look like shoes," she   
mumbled, reaching for the tape. The roll of adhesive slipped out of her reach and rolled between her box and another   
one. She sighed and pushed the open box back, turning it in the process. As she leaned, some scrawled kanji caught   
her eye. "Oh, that was dumb of me. It IS labeled... Haruka, what's 'Egypt, '94?'"  
  
Haruka, who was paused with a box of Marlboros in one hand and a lighter in the other, froze. She was silent for a   
moment, then swallowed, and lifted the lighter to the fresh cigarette that hung from her lips. "Nothing. Egypt, 1994 is   
absolutely nothing. I must have my shoes in a closet somewhere. Let's go upstairs." She dusted off a pant leg and   
retreated out the door. Kitsune watched the older woman go, wondering what was wrong.   
  
  
Haruka leaned against the mahogany and marble bar, arms crossed. She regarded the crowd in the bar with a detached   
disinterest. She focused on none of the faces and figures, though, as she was lost in thought. She barely noticed when   
Seta pushed his way through the mass of people and leaned against the bar next to her.   
  
The bar was attached to one of the finer hotels in Tokyo, and the patrons reflected this. Most of them were in cocktail   
dresses or jackets, and all of them looked like they had more money than they should. Haruka and Seta blended in   
rather well, although neither of them was at ease. They stood silently, shoulder to shoulder, as still as carved stone.   
Haruka was the first to break the trance: she rummaged around in her purse and produced a pack of cigarettes.   
  
"Cigarette?" she offered her companion. He nodded mutely and searched his pockets for matches.  
  
Haruka smiled, amused. "What happened to your crusade, Seta? You don't care about your lungs anymore?"  
  
"My lungs can take care of themselves," he said, striking a match and lighting Haruka's cigarette, then his. "I don't..."   
  
"Good evening."  
  
Seta jumped, but Haruka's expression and eyes remained motionless. "Good evening, Adachi. Been a while."  
  
Adachi Tadazane's face was a shadow of what it had been. He had lost weight, and his hair was now completely silver.   
His eyes were sunken in, and he looked like hadn't slept in months. The elderly man nodded. "Quite a while. Let's get   
a table, shall we?"  
  
The man strode into the crowd, walking stiffly. Haruka followed at a more leisurely pace, Seta in tow. The Todai   
archeology professor looked quite uncomfortable. Awkward formalities passed over drinks as they spoke in a dark   
corner booth. Adachi Tadazane was quite different from the man they had known in their youth. The joviality that   
surrounded him was long dead, their friend from years ago now a different man.  
  
"What do you want from us?" Haruka asked, sharply.  
  
"I need your help," Tadazane answered smoothly. "I have secured a grant in order to study the Bracelet of   
Nemtynakht, and I..."  
  
"You want it back," she said, her voice hard.   
  
This took the elder man by surprise, but only threw him off for a second. "It's not quite how you think it is, Haruka-  
san."  
  
This time, Seta spoke, his tone more forgiving than the woman's. "I'm sure you have other plans for it, Adachi, but you   
have to understand our position. This is something that..."  
  
"Drastically changed your life? Destroyed your plans for the future entirely?" Tadazane finished. "You knew its   
power for less than a second. How do you think it's affected me? I was foolish, I know," he sighed. "But you have to   
believe me when I..."  
  
"You want the notebooks," Haruka said evenly, uninterested in the old man's excuses.   
  
Tadazane blinked, realizing that explaining his own position was getting him nowhere. "Yes. Yes, I want your   
notebooks. Yes, I want to dig the Bracelet back up. I know it was a horrible experience last time, but you have to trust   
me."  
  
"Why?" She crossed her arms.  
  
"Because I have learned my lesson," he said, exasperated. "I want to have nothing to do with... all of that. Why would   
I want it?" He gestured at the room around him. "I inherited my family's fortune, I don't need money. What could I   
gain?" His voice lowered. "But think of the knowledge we could uncover, as a race, if we actually understood how it   
worked!"  
  
His audience said nothing, so he continued. "I'm bringing a team out to Abu Simbel in a week and a half. I'd like to   
invite you both along--expenses paid, of course."  
  
Haruka was silent. This was a battle that could not be won, as Tadazane had always been incredibly stubborn. She was   
surprised that Seta hadn't relented-the man was a sucker for Human Knowledge. She eyed the young man briefly. He   
looked like he was struggling with something. She prayed that he wasn't about to say what she thought he was going to   
say. The prospect of another dig was... well, it did bring back some very pleasant memories. But this was not the way   
to go. They could not risk offering a madman power over the rest of humanity.  
  
Seta rested his chin on his hand for a moment. Haruka contemplated her options. If Seta agreed, which he looked   
almost ready to do, she would have to destroy the notebooks herself, and quickly.   
  
"You can think about it," Tadazane was saying. "But I'd need an answer within the next day or so. If you can't   
accompany me, then I simply ask for access to your notebooks."  
  
Seta cleared his throat. "I burned them. We could not help you if we wanted to." His voice was soft, but firm. "Let's   
go, Haruka." He slid out of the booth and melted into the crowd.  
  
The woman sat for a moment, trying to decide whether she should be relieved. Tadazane stared after Seta, frustrated.   
He turned to the woman. "You have to under..."  
  
"You heard what he said," Haruka smirked. "It's over. Let the past be, Adachi, you can't fix a mistake like that simply   
by trying again." She rose from the table. "It's been just lovely," she said. "Maybe we'll do this again in another six   
years."  
  
  
She could see the camp in the distance; green and brown humps in the sand like hippopotamus' backs in a river. There   
was a cluster of small RV's on one end of the camp. Laundry lines were strung up between the vehicles. A fleet of   
Jeeps in various states of disrepair sat patiently along the edges of the camp.   
  
"There she is," Tadazane announced proudly, pointing to what looked like nothing more than a gray dent in the sand at   
the base of a red cliff. "Our baby."  
  
"Just gorgeous," Haruka noted dryly. "Absolutely fascinating."  
  
"Sarcasm, Haruka-san?" the older man grinned widely. "Such blasphemy! I'm sure you will be amazed once we crack   
her open!"  
  
"How close are you?" Seta asked, producing a pair of binoculars from his backpack and focusing on the discoloration.  
  
"Days," the Sensei answered. "We're on the cusp of our destinies, children!"  
  
"What, exactly," Haruka said, "Is our destiny, Adachi-sensei?"  
  
Tadazane's voice swelled. "Whatever is under that sand!"  
  
Seta laughed, and Haruka rolled her eyes. Tadazane's grin widened. "In all honesty, though, we're not sure what we've   
hit, save that it's rather large. It could be an empty, looted tomb, or it could be a breathtaking monument that will put   
us in the history books for centuries to come. We'll have to wait and find out." His voice lowered. "But there are   
legends and rumors claiming that the power of Sakhmet Herself is sleeping in the hills near here."  
  
"Sakhmet," Seta mused. "The goddess of war and divine vengeance..."  
  
Haruka nodded. "She's also the patron of healers and physicians. Ironic, ne?"  
  
"Ah, how I wish I could have you as a student, Haruka-san," Adachi sighed. They pulled into the camp, and the jeep   
slowed to a halt. "We're hooooome," the professor sang.  
  
  
The phone was ringing  
  
The lump beneath the blankets stirred and moaned softly.  
  
It continued to ring, its voice grating and oblivious to the upset it was causing. Haruka groaned again and rolled over,   
trying to find the digits of the clock. Green bars came into focus. It was five-thirty in the morning.  
  
Who the HELL called at five-thirty in the morning? She could dimly recall last night... yes, there had been   
a party last night... something about Keitaro not failing some prep test. She could definitely recall sake. There was   
sake last night, yes. That probably accounted for the throbbing in her head. The little party had been a welcome   
interjection in an otherwise dull week. Things had gone back to normal after the visit with Tadazane.   
  
"Coming, coming," she grumbled to no-one in particular, pulling herself out of bed and staggering towards the   
telephone on the desk. Her eyes were having trouble staying open. She cleared her throat, and picked up.  
  
"Hello?"   
  
"Haruka! It's me."  
  
"Seta? It's five-thirty."  
  
"Haruka, there's a problem..."  
  
"Problem?"  
  
"...the notebooks are gone."  
  
Haruka was speechless for a moment, unsure if she'd misunderstood. "I thought you said you'd burned yours."  
  
"I've been trying to understand some of the passages that I recorded..."  
  
"You didn't burn them?" Her stomach dropped.   
  
"I'm sorry, Haruka, I thought that we would be safe. I never thought that someone would break into my office... that   
they could actually FIND the notebooks, in the mess I've got here."  
  
She growled to herself. "Adachi, that bastard..."  
  
"We don't know it was him, Haruka..."  
  
"Who else would it be?"  
  
There was a pause. "I don't know."  
  
Haruka desperately groped for something to assist them, and a sudden flicker of hope welled up inside her. "But I have   
half of the notebooks. I have the coordinates, don't I?"  
  
"Yes," Seta said. "Yes, you have the notebooks that hold the exact location of the Bracelet."  
  
"So he won't be able to find it."  
  
"Your notebooks have the exact location. Mine had several references to the general area where it is now. He could   
still, conceivably, locate it. "  
  
Haruka swore. Seta continued. "We could do nothing, and assume that the artifact is safe, but we may be wrong. Do   
you want to take that chance?"  
  
Haruka rubbed her eyes, her hangover suddenly getting worse. She sighed. "Alright. What do we do?"  
  
"We pack."  
  
Hours later, the single bare bulb snapped on, swinging on its chain and casting forlorn shadows across the neglected   
boxes of the storage room. One box was fortunate enough to be selected, and hefted up the stairs, out of the inn, and   
into Haruka's bedroom. It left its comrades lonely and wistful.  
  
Haruka sat for a moment, eyes closed. This would be it, the moment everything would come alive again, the moment   
the past would close around her, and possibly drown her in its flood. She pulled back the flaps, prepared for the   
memories that might lay crouched in the box, waiting to spring on her.  
  
The box opened. Haruka waited for the flashbacks, for the sudden clarity of every hazy moment she remembered, but   
nothing happened. In a way, she was disappointed.  
  
She extracted a few notebooks and set them on the bed. These would be their savior, the card that allowed them to   
reach the bracelet before Tadazane. Next out of the box was a leather bomber jacket, the hide soft and discolored with   
age. It was still a handsome coat, though, and it looked like it would still fit her. Under the jacket lay her bullwhip.   
  
An odd item for a teahouse manager to own, the whip had been a gift from Seta, a running joke they'd had. Haruka   
countered the gag by mastering the whip, scaring the life out of Seta. The looks on the faces of the airport security as   
they searched through her carry-on and found this... It was funny, but in a depressing sort of way.  
  
She eyed the rest of the box with disdain. This was oddly like looking for her box of shoes; memories were connected   
with each article, but they were empty and detached, their colors faded with time, like the jacket. She wasn't sure she   
wanted to remember, anyway.   
  
  
Don't say it, don't say it, please don't say what I think you're going to say, please! Her mind rushed, frantic,   
panicking.   
  
"Sara-chan, I have to leave for a while..."  
  
Please, please don't say it...  
  
"I can't take you with me, it may become quite dangerous."  
  
She wailed. "Papa, no! You just got back a few days ago, don't go again!" She buried her head in his shoulder.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sara, I have to go this time. There's no getting out of this trip," Seta said evenly. Haruka sat across the table   
from the two of them, watching silently.  
  
"For how long?"   
  
"I don't know yet."  
  
"Longer than a week?"  
  
"Yes, longer than a week."  
  
"Two weeks?"  
  
"Maybe. I'm not sure yet."  
  
Sara wailed louder. "Don't leave me here with these crazy people and idiots! I might turn into one of them!" She   
clung desperately to him. Please don't leave me, please, what will I do if you don't come back?  
  
"You have nowhere else to stay, Sara. They'll take good care of you."  
  
"I could go with you!" the girl pleaded. "I would stay out of the way. I can even help! I'll go with you!"  
  
"This is not a field trip. Haruka-chan..." Seta grimaced as Haruka's foot connected with his shin. "Er, Haruka-san...   
and I will be very busy, and we won't be able to keep an eye on you..."   
  
Sara wailed again. Haruka is going with my Papa? What if she steals Papa away from me?   
  
There was a thump in the hallway outside the closed door, and Haruka rolled her eyes. "Kitsune, is that you?"  
  
The door slid open. "I wasn't spying, I swear! I was just passing by..."  
  
Kitsune stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment and laughed nervously. Her face gained a serious edge and she   
took a tentative step into the room. "Seta-san," she said, "I offered to come with you on your next trip, to watch Sara...   
well, I mean, you seem to need someone now, and I'm... I'll still go with you. I can watch her for you."  
  
Seta didn't look very convinced, Haruka noted. In fact, he appeared to be searching for the right words to turn her   
down without hurting the girl's pride. Before he could deny Kitsune's offer, she said, "Girls, why don't you go   
downstairs and help Shinobu with lunch? We'll be down in a few minutes."   
  
Kitsune glanced at Haruka, unsure, but nodded. "Alright. Sara-chan, come on." The little girl paused for a moment to   
glare at Haruka, then reluctantly slid off her father's lap and followed Kitsune. The door slid shut behind them.  
  
Seta sighed. "What to do, eh? Now I have two people to disappoint."  
  
"I think you should let them come."  
  
"...what?"  
  
"I think they should come. Roman still lives in Abu Simbel, I spoke to him a few weeks ago. I'm sure he would take   
them in for a while. They'd be perfectly safe." Seta seemed to give this thought. "Kitsune... she needs something,"   
Haruka said, staring at the door. "She's looking for who she is. She'll never find her true self if she doesn't go out   
searching."   
  
Seta nodded slightly. "Alright, I suppose we could look into it, if you believe it's that important."  
  
"And, Seta?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Watch what you say in front of the kids, you baka," she growled, kicking him again.   
  
--------------------  
  
First off, I owe infinite thanks to Big D. The whole basis of this fic came from him: "Urashima Haruka, Hina Raider!"   
He's also credited with much of the concept work (the boring stuff) and for some helpful beta work.  
  
Most importantly, I must thank my indefatigable Zif, beta-reader extraoridnaire. He tolerates my constant nagging, my   
random mood swings, vicious assaults on his kitten, and my superfluous comma use.   
  
Random comments and offerings of virgin sacrifices can be sent to fish@fanfiction.net.   



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